


the body sleeping next to me

by hqdorks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Suicide, haunting AU, i love my dead gay son, mature rating for suicide & rape mentions & swearing a lot, oikawa tooru is the worst ghost roommate ever, rape mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7881070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hqdorks/pseuds/hqdorks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi Hajime did nothing to deserve this. </p><p>Oikawa Tooru is too pretty to be dead.</p><p> </p><p>Or: the Haunting AU nobody asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. mile long legs and early morning meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Is this rushed? Yes.  
> Is it short? Yes.  
> Could I have doubled it in length and posted a proper first chapter? Yes.  
> Did I? No. So here we are. I wanted to get something out before my inspiration died. Now I'm obligated to keep updating.

Hajime stumbled into his dark bedroom, stripping down into his boxers before flopping gracelessly into bed. It was nearly two o’clock in the morning and the only thing he craved more than death itself was sleep. Fickle, time consuming, all too necessary sleep. If there's one thing University has taught him it’s to accept sleep into his life like he never did the Lord.

His poor soul is mere moments away from slipping into unconsciousness when the sweet release was ripped away from him.

_“Psssssst, what’s your wifi password?”_ The disembodied voice might as well have stabbed him in the dick too.

All Hajime could manage to do was cry softly into his pillow and pray. As well as deliver a killer comeback, “It’s go fuck yourself. No caps. No spaces.” 

_“Oh ha ha, very funny.”_

It may have been the fact that he had spent the last 48 running on coffee alone or that his brain was currently the pink slime from the shitty _Ghostbusters_ sequel after writing two essays and studying for tomorrow's exam, but it wasn't until this point he started to question what was going on. 

Hajime lifted his head from his pillow and blinked open his tired eyes, giving them a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. Sitting with one impossibly long leg crossed over the other atop his dresser was a man holding a smartphone. He had fluffy looking chestnut hair and big, round chocolate eyes. 

“Who the hell are you?” Hajime sat up fully. Now, unfortunately, he was awake. 

_“Oh, little ol’ me?”_ The man touched a hand lightly to his own chest. He elegantly uncrossed his legs and hopped down from the dresser, took two steps across Hajime’s cramped bedroom, and sat down on the edge of his bed. The mattress dipped under his weight but not as much as it should have. Hajime noticed a slightest glow to his milky pale skin.

“Um, yeah. You.” He lost the demanding edge to his voice.

_“My name is Oikawa Tooru. Nice to finally meet you, Iwa-chan.”_ He spoke with a playful lilt. Over all his voice was soft, it rose and fell like a melody. Enticing him. 

“Finally? Iwa-chan? Just what are you doing in my apartment?” 

_“I live here. Have for longer than you have too, champ. You’re never around much though so I have not been able to introduce myself until right-”_ he paused a beat, _“-about-”_ and another, _“-now.”_ Oikawa shifted his weight, the mattress springs protested, and he recrossed his legs in a flourish. Those things went on for miles. _“Shame isn’t it?”_

Hajime said the first thing that came to mind, “What the fuck?” Eloquent. 

_“It’s not my favorite thing to do, but I’ll come right out and say it. No big secret really.”_ Oikawa scooched closer to him. He placed a shockingly cold hand gently on one shoulder and leaned over to Hajime’s other side. _“I’m dead,”_ he whispered. Oikawa smelled like cigarette smoke, and rain, and ripe peaches. 

“Cool.”

_“What?”_

“What’s a ghost doing with a smartphone anyway?” 

Oikawa leaned back, a puzzled look on his face. _“You mean you actually believe me? And you’re not freaked out?”_

“I mean, it’s pretty ridiculous yeah, but you don’t seem like a real person so sure. Ghost. Cool. Man, I'm really tired I'd believe anything at this point.”

_“Oh. And I stole the phone from the last guy who lived here. He was a huge douche. Thought he lost it.”_ Oikawa gave a short, breathy laugh that punched Hajime in the stomach. 

Hajime quirked an eyebrow.

Oikawa offered a half smile, _“Don’t worry, Iwa-chan, I haven’t stolen anything from you. You seem like an okay guy so I left you alone.”_

“You’ve just been-” Hajime paused “-hanging out?”

_“I can’t really leave this apartment, don’t know why. And I can’t really do stuff, physically, or make sounds without like energy. Which I get from people. Don’t know why. When there's someone in the apartment touching shit and living I get energy. I’m not really sure how it works exactly. But you’re not around often so it took me a while to build up enough energy to, ya’know, be. Like, poke me. I’m solid. That takes work. Be impressed.”_ Oikawa’s freezing cold hand still sat on his shoulder. It felt like the warmth was being leeched from his body. 

“So you worked up all this energy to ask me for my wifi password?” Hajime asked, skeptical. 

He hummed in affirmation, _“Not much to do when you’re dead. I get bored.”_

“Well obviously not bored enough to look around. The passwords on the fridge, Shittykawa. Now, I’d _hate_ to cut this touching first encounter off, but I do in fact hate myself and have an eight am class tomorrow. So it’d be great if you could leave me alone for at least the next five hours.”


	2. wanted, needed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys talk a little bit about the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda been a while because im preoccupied getting a shitty american education

The next morning Hajime awoke to an email saying his 8am class was canceled for the day. Never had death seemed sweeter. He shrugged on a sweater to ward off the crisp morning air seeping through his walls. He kept the thermostat turned down in order to keep his bills down as well. 

His tiny cramped kitchen smelled of coffee. That was a first, he had never used his coffee maker before, usually opting to buy cheap coffee from the 24 hour cafe near the library. The only reason he hasn't sold the thing yet is because he keeps telling himself he’s going to use it even though deep, deep down he has no fucking clue how to. 

When his short lapse of utter denseness passed he made sure to wonder _why the fuck his kitchen smelled like coffee at 7:30 am when he hasn’t brewed his own coffee in ages?_

Hajime flicked on the kitchen light. “Fuck,” he groaned. Sitting atop his incredibly limited counter space was shitty fucking Oikawa Tooru. He kicked his feet idly, heels occasionally bumping the cabinets and rattling the doors on their rusted hinges. He noticed brightly colored mismatched socks and slightly skewed black framed glasses perched on his nose. Hajime thought, prayed, that this guy was just a dream. A delusion made up by his sleep deprived, kind of horny mind. But alas. 

Oikawa looked up from his phone. _“Morning, Iwa-chan! I made you some coffee, ya’know as an apology for keeping you up last night. But I’m warning you my barista skills may be a little out of practice.”_ His voice rasped in the back of his throat, a husky staccato of melted sweetness. As much as Hajime didn’t know how the whole ghost thing worked, Oikawa seemed like he just woke up. Though aside from the new attire, the only difference from how he looked last night was a subtle haze. He didn't know if that was attributed to the groggy morning aesthetic that colored everything right now or if Oikawa was less solid than he was last night. 

Hajime took the coffee offered to him, his fingertips brushing an impossibly cold hand. “Thanks,” he said sipping his drink. 

_“I don’t know how you do that.”_

Hajime gave him an inquisitive glance over the rim of his mug. 

_“Drink black coffee, that is. Oh Jesus I can’t stand it.”_ He made a mock disgusted face, clamping his eyes shut and sticking out his tongue. It reminded Hajime of a child who's just had a sip of their mother's morning coffee. 

He took a step back across his tiny apartment, effectively leaning himself against the back of his couch. The heat from his cup seeped into his palm and started to warm up his entire body. He studied Oikawa’s features, the delicate set of his jaw, the gentle slope of his nose, high cheekbones. Half of his face was lit by the old fluorescent light of his kitchen making his pale skin look sickly. The other half was lit by the warm sunlight being cast in through the window behind him, the sun still hung low in the sky leaving trails of orange in its wake. This half of his face was painted silver with flushed blotches of pink balancing under his cheekbone. Oikawa looked down to where his crossed ankles swung aimlessly, his eyelashes threw shadows like crescent moons under his eyes. 

Iwaizumi Hajime had noticed that Oikawa Tooru was stunningly attractive at first glance. It was as obvious as the sky being blue or Beyonce being the Queen, only an idiot wouldn't see it. Oikawa’s looks were objective, universally. He didn’t need long exposure followed by a shocking realization to see that he was very, _very_ good looking. Oikawa was the kind of guy that girls made a fan club for and made _straight_ guys question their sexuality. 

Oikawa looked up, making eye contact with Hajime, _“Like what you see? You’ve been staring awful long.”_

He just shrugged in response. “I was pitying you. Must be hard to be that ugly.”

_“Don’t be such a tsundere, Iwa-chan. A compliment or two wouldn’t kill me ya’know?”_

“If only it would,” he grumbled as he took a shady sip of his coffee. A beat of silence and it was time for the subject to change, “So why are you here?”

_“Well that’s pretty vague,”_ Oikawa said into his own mug, the steam fogged up his glasses. It was a wonder how real he was. 

“I mean this apartment. Why are you in _this_ apartment?” 

Oikawa rolled his shoulders and looked behind him out the window where a bird landed on a power line, a black paper cut out silhouetted against the morning sky. _“Probably lived here. Went to school here. Don't really remember much of the whole life thing. Last clear memory is when I graduated high school. After that things get hazy, and eventually drop off completely.”_ He heaved a heavy sigh, shoulders drooping back down and arms falling limply into his lap, both hands cradling his coffee cup. 

Part of him wanted to know more. Needed to know more. Needed to know who this dumb kid was. “What do you remember? I’m curious.”

He hummed a little, reaching an arm back to brace himself on the counter so he could lean his head on the window. Outside the bird squawked and flew away, more birds coming to steal its perch. _“I played volleyball, worked my ass off too. Don’t think I was ever in one piece back then,”_ he huffed a short breathy laugh. As if conjured up by the memory, bruises bloomed on Tooru’s knees. Muddled purples, blues, hints of yellows and pinks. Everything about this boy turned out beautiful. _“I was a setter. I think I got a scholarship, full ride maybe. I don’t really remember. But damn was I good.”_

“Volleyball, huh? I played back in high school too. Wing spiker. I did okay, I guess.” Hajime went to take a drink, only getting a sad trickle of cold coffee laced with bitter grounds. He stepped forward and set his empty mug down on the counter near Oikawa’s knee. The ceramic clinked dully on the linoleum. Hajime reached past Oikawa to grab the coffee pot and refill his mug. It wasn’t until he set down the pot and glanced up, Tooru stared down at him wide eyed. The angle of the sun threw a halo of warmth through his mussed hair. 

_“Why’d you quit?”_ It was barely a whisper. 

Hajime shrugged, the small movement seemed to shift the whole space. Their close proximity felt like a balancing act. If anything, or anyone, were to move too far, too quickly, the scales would tip and something would shatter. “Time,” he answered simply. 

Tooru moved slowly, tentatively. He slid forward off the counter, planting his feet gently on the floor in front of Hajime. The very minimal space between them had shrunk. Chills ran circles through his body. Tooru looked at him with his big doe eyes. He reached out and touched his forearm, icy fingers slipping down and knocking against his own. Tooru ducked down a few inches, evening out their height difference. Hajime felt as if his skin was buzzing with static electricity. In that moment he wanted, needed contact. Skin on skin and chocolate eyes and lips that probably taste like coffee and legs that go on forever and ever into oblivion. 

Hajime raised up a little, just barely closing the gap. Trying to say, hurry up. There was a fraction of an inch, of a centimeter between them. And then there wasn’t. If only for a split second. A brief moment in history. The static under Hajime’s skin turned to fire lighting up each and every nerve ending, burning holes in his brain. The sun could have exploded in that brief moment in history, destroying everything and Hajime wouldn’t have noticed. But that moment, that split second, ended. Cut off by the shrill and loud ringing of his phone still sitting on his nightstand. Just enough to tip the balance.


	3. Make the world stop for a while

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol its been a while i have developed a life

The building manager was in her office by the mailboxes for once. It was late. He was surprised to see a light on. Hajime had been at the library late, studying, knowing he wouldn't get anything done at home with the complete distraction that is Oikawa Tooru. He knocked on the door.

The sound of tapping keys halted, “Yes?”

Hajime stepped inside, “Hey, um, I just had a question about one of the former occupants of my apartment.”

She cast her eyes back down to her computer screen and continued typing for a solid thirty seconds. “What apartment are you in?” she asked without looking up.

“2D,” he answered. 

“Before you was another college student, he’d gotten kicked out of his fraternity or something. Moved out when he dropped out of school. That kid never paid rent on time.” 

There was no way that was what he wanted to know. “I was thinking a little before that.”

She finally stopped typing and looked up from her computer. “Iwaizumi-san, I’ve only been here for five years now. You’ve been here for nearly half of that. The only people I’ve had in 2D are you and the ex-frat boy.”

He asked her if she had heard anything from before she started working there. 

“There was a suicide. About seven years ago. Another college student I think. Apparently he’d been a real chipper guy. Nobody would rent the place until that stupid kid before you. Lucky for me, the year you moved in was the year we legally didn’t have to tell prospective renters about any recent deaths.”

Abruptly, Hajime stated to back out of the office, “Umm, thank you, have a good night.” 

“You too, Iwaizumi-san,” the manager called after him. 

***

The next day, after his last class he went back to the library. Though instead of studying for his biology exam next week, he started searching through the newspaper archives. It was harder than he thought, searching through a year's worth of local newspapers. 

_Why did it even matter? Why did he even want to know?_ Part of Hajime couldn't attribute it to mere morbid curiosity. Of course having a literal ghost living, or existing rather, in his apartment did leave him with some questions. It might have been how Oikawa acted that left him wanting to _do something._ Sure, the guy emitted a ray of sunshine laced with sarcasm straight out of his ass, but it didn’t conceal the utter misery he was wading through. 

When he spoke about his past, his life, the parts he remembers he became a whole other person. Speaking with a passionate, melancholic, nostalgia. He spoke like an old man reliving his glory days. But he stumbled over the holes in his memory. Struggling to come up with what he was studying in uni, or how old he had been when he’d died. 

Hajime hoped that if he could figure out some of the parts Oikawa couldn’t remember, that Oikawa would be happier? He hadn’t really thought it through completely. 

Sure enough he found what he was looking for. The headline read: _College Athlete Found Dead_ along with a picture of Oikawa in his volleyball uniform, smiling, there were a few other players around him but all their faces were blurred out. Further down the page was a picture of a bathroom… his bathroom it turns out. _“After not being seen or spoken to in a few days, a team member went to check on Oikawa Tooru only to discover his body in the bathtub.”_ The article turned into a full on obituary, taking up the whole front page. Not much happens in a place like this, so a suicide really made the world stop for a while. It described his childhood, which Hajime had heard plenty of stories about, his volleyball career, and his academic achievement. 

Hajime spent five cents to print the page, folded it haphazardly to stuff in his back pocket, and hurried home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jk i dont have a life im just a piece of shit


	4. Class, Work, Tooru, Sleep, Repeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We delve into Iwaizumi Hajime's pathetic social life & I apologise for not updating in 83 years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet you thought you'd seen the last of me

His lips were cold. So cold they burned. Leaving fire dancing across his skin everywhere they touched. This always left him gasping for air, mind reeling. His only clear thoughts being the vicious mouth on his neck and the icy hand slipping up under his shirt. The numbness settled into his bones didn’t distract him from every inch their bodies made contact. How many times had they done this? Three times? Four? Could have been five, _God how could he even think about numbers when there was Oikawa Tooru on him like the world was about to end?_

After that first morning in his kitchen a few weeks ago Oikawa was just there all the time. Hanging around. Hajime being, well Hajime, griped about it, calling Oikawa an annoyance at the base of everything but he managed to get colorful with it too. He kept a mental checklist of the demeaning prefixes he could add to _-kawa._

But sometimes their argumentative banter would fall stagnant and twist into something else. Pulling them closer, closer always. Tooru was magnetic like that. Cold to the touch but he looked so warm. An enigma of soarts. He was bright eyes and soft laughter that bubbled up behind his smile. 

They appreciated each other's company because they were the only company they had. Oikawa because he was tied to the apartment. Hajime because…

Hajime had friends. He did. Most of them guys he met in highschool, but his friends had friends and his friends had lives. He was also pursuing a medical degree in as few semesters as possible as there was no way he could afford to take his time. He didn’t have the time to socialize. He went to class, he went to work, he went to sleep. Although these days there were portions of Oikawa in between those. He found himself staying up later and waking up earlier. It was an obvious choice; he needed to do less of either work, class, or sleep. Work being the only thing feeding him and paying rent. Class being his entire reason for living right now. Sleep being a completely unproductive waste of time.

*** 

Most days when he got home Oikawa was asleep on the couch covered in the remains of whatever snacks he decided to steal and a shitty alien documentary playing. Today was no different. He didn’t even need to eat to survive, yet he was always eating Hajime’s food. And he kept deleting the news Hajime records so he could record whatever shit he watches. Right now his DVR was full of _Ancient Aliens_ and _X-Files_ reruns. Oikawa Tooru was the worst roommate in history and he didn’t even help with the rent. 

Hajime slid his backpack off his shoulder and let it ‘thunk’ onto the floor next to the couch. It was cold in the apartment, Tooru had an ugly patchwork quilt straight from the clearance aisle of a Target pulled up to his chin. He was scrunched up on the couch but the blanket still wasn’t long enough to cover all of him. Hajime pushed Tooru’s feet aside and sat down heavily, jostling the lanky dork. He pulled up the end of the blanket and covered his legs with it. 

_“Well, good morning there,”_ Tooru shifted, stretched, and pushed himself up onto his elbows. He didn’t look the _best_ , but he _never_ looked bad. His hair was mussed and sticking up in odd places like duckfluff. His eyes were puffy and tinged slightly red as if he had been crying. Probably over some stupid tv show. 

“It’s nearly four, you shit head.”

_“AM or PM?”_

Hajime just stared at him, expression completely blank. Oikawa stared right back. 

There was a beat of silence before Oikawa’s face split into a grin and he started _giggling. “Oh my God, I’m so dumb. You just got home from classes didn’t you?”_

Hajime felt his face twist into a smirk without his permission. He nodded, “Yeah, but my shift starts in like forty-five minutes.”

Oikawa’s grin fell into a pout, _“And leave me all alone again? Mean, Iwa-chan!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short but I really needed to put _something_ out today. Don't worry, I have another chapter in the works and I will try my darndest to not go almost exactly three months to the day without updating.


	5. happy drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyyyyy told you it wouldn't be three months

They were in the same place they were that first morning; Oikawa sitting on the counter, fingers drumming on the side of his coffee mug, this time full of a liquid that definitely was not coffee, smiling brightly off the residual laughter from the story Hajime had just told him. It was nearly two in the morning and they were up in the kitchen drinking the strongest substance they could find. Hajime had found an unopened bottle of “whisky” that Kuroo had gotten him last time they’d seen each other. It tasted like straight lighter fluid but it got the job done. The bottle was almost empty now. Oikawa was a happy drunk. Not surprising. Except the grin that he wore wasn’t fabricated. It sat prominently on his face distorting his features sweetly. His eyes were glazed over from the alcohol but still bright. The street lamp outside cast a warm, artificial glow on half of his face. How was it that the light outside was brighter than the one in his kitchen? 

Hajime was talking, but he wasn’t sure what he was talking about. His thoughts were elsewhere. But Oikawa was laughing again. That means he was saying something right, whatever that was. 

Now Oikawa is saying something back. He still wasn’t paying attention, finding it more interesting to commit to memory the way the shitty lights in his kitchen threw shadows over the planes of Oikawa’s face. _“Iwa-chan! You’re not paying attention.”_ His face had reformed itself into a little disappointed pout. His expressions were much more genuine when he was too drunk to think about what stupid face he was making. 

“What? Oh, sorry, I was just,” he stuttered a little, which he almost never did, maybe it was the alcohol, “thinking about something.” 

_“What were you thinking about? C’mon you have to tell me!”_

He took a drink to stall. A soberer, saner, Hajime would have called Oikawa an idiot and ignored his request. But Sane Sober Iwaizumi Hajime wasn’t here right now. Bolder, braver, drunker Iwaizumi Hajime downed the rest of his drink and looked back up at Oikawa, who was absently kicking his feet. “Just thinking about how beautiful you are.”

That smile was back. Hajime made sure to notice the way the corners of his eyes crinkled a little. He laughed again. Laughing, laughing, always laughing at everything he said. Hajime wasn’t really that charming or funny. It was real though, he didn’t doubt that. 

_“Why do you look so grumpy?”_ Oikawa asked, voice colored soft with breathy giggles. 

“I don’t,” he grumbled. 

_“You’re bad at lying. I know your default state is encrusted with salt but you looked happy before. What happened? Did I do something stupid?”_ He didn’t look concerned, the smile was still there. _Fondly._ Is that the word for how Oikawa was looking at him? It’s a strange word. _Fond. “What are you thinking about now?”_

“Wondering how you don’t have some creepy paranormal mind reading trick so I don’t have to tell you what I’m thinking every five seconds.” There it was, he laughed again. “I’m not that funny.” 

_“Yeah well, I’m drunk and everything's funny right now. Besides, I find you fascinating no matter what.”_

Hajime threw what he knew was a dismissive glance. It’s something he’s good at, being dismissive. 

_“I’m serious!”_ He squawked, _“You think I’m beautiful and I think you’re fascinating. You’re just gonna have to get used to it.”_

Hajime felt heat settle on his face. Definitely from the alcohol. “Only if you explain this to me, because I just don’t understand.”

 _“Well first of all you’re quite… attractive,”_ Oikawa said this with the quirk of an eyebrow and a sly expression before dissolving into laughter. Once he composed himself he started again, _“You’re so smart too. And behind that crunchy, bitter exterior you really are a nice guy. You’re so strong. What you’re doing here is really hard, supporting yourself and going to school at the same time. You work your ass off all day and still come home and deal with me. That’s how I know you’re a good person. It must be a lot tougher than I can even imagine. I probably had it easy with a scholarship and everything.”_

_Probably._

He remembered the article he printed out at the library a few days ago. “There’s something I should tell you before I remember what anxiety is.”

 _“Please tell me--”_ the kitchen light cut out, leaving them startled into silence for a moment. Until Oikawa was laughing again. Hajime could still see him thanks to the street light outside his window, perched on the counter clutching his stomach and howling. _“Iwa-chan, when was the last time you replaced that bulb?”_

“Never.”

This set Oikawa off even further, _“Oh my god, Iwa-chan, I’m_ dying.” 

“Okay, but seriously I should probably tell you something.” He remembered exactly where he put that article, in the top drawer of his nightstand. 

Oikawa slid off the counter and stumbled the step over to Hajime, knocking into his chest. He realized now that Oikawa had literally laughed himself to tears over a dead light bulb. He steadied Oikawa who straightened to full height before slouching down again. Their noses bumped together before Oikawa found his mouth. 

***

Hajime never did tell Oikawa. It wasn’t until he woke up several hours later, already late to his first class, that he realized that he was supposed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, i'm not sure if you knew this but, there's a comment section. just sayin.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> pl ease i need attention,, i have a wife and children to feed please


	6. pattern break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> something happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been a hot second, dudes (posted with enriched text so the formatting is messy but my laptop is dying & i have no charger so this will have to do until i can fix it later)

Was this a pattern or is his apartment just really small? Hajime ran over a check list in his head,

 

In the kitchen - check

Oikawa on the counter - check

Drinking from coffee mugs - check

Gay Thoughts - C H E C K 

 

He watched Oikawa quietly, he was talking about some dumb conspiracy theory he watched on tv earlier. Hajime was more interested in observing the little things he did. Running his thumb back and forth over the handle of his mug. The way he couldn’t just focus on one thing, his eyes flitting around the room from the street outside the window to the pattern in the fake tile flooring then back to Hajime. 

 

“ _ You’re not paying attention.”  _

 

“Why would I want to, dumbass?”   

 

Oikawa laughed, “ _ Now that’s just rude.”  _ He paused, studying Hajime’s face for a moment, “ _ What’s on your mind? You’ve been acting like something's eating at you lately. It makes me sad.”  _

 

This was either a perfect opportunity for Hajime to just fucking tell him already. Or it was a death sentence. His nerves had him feeling like it was more of the death sentence. “It’s just that I,”

 

Oikawa stopped running his thumb over his mug, setting it down on the counter next to him. He stopped swinging his legs like he normally did and folded his hands in his lap. Giving Hajime his full attention. He tipped his head to the side slightly. His eyes were wide and… innocent? No. Trusting? Concerned. He was concerned. For Hajime.  _ Fuck. _

 

“It’s just that I’ve been kinda worn out lately. Ya’know, classes and all.”  _ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  _

 

Oikawa slipped off the counter and grabbed his hand, pulling him around the back of the couch and sitting on one end. He pulled his legs up to his chest neatly and looked down at the other end, waiting for Hajime to join him. So he did. 

 

Once he sat down facing Oikawa, Oikawa unfolded himself and continued to take up an obnoxious, but somehow respectful, amount of space on the small couch. Their legs tangled together under the blanket that Oikawa pulled down off the back of the couch for them. He leaned over and fumbled around with his ridiculously long arms to find the remote.

 

“ _ What do you wanna watch?”  _

 

“Fuck, uh, okay,” Hajime rubbed at the back of his neck. 

 

_ “I didn’t think you were that indecisive when it came to picking something to watch.”  _ Tooru laughed a little before he started to flick through the menu. 

 

Hajime took a deep breath in as if he was about to just fucking drown himself because honestly he might as well at this point _.  _ “No, um, actually there's something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Classes haven’t been any more stressful than usual. I just-”

 

He had Tooru’s attention again. His face was slightly downturned and he was looking up at Hajime through his eyelashes. 

 

“Didn’t know how to bring this up.” He lifted himself up a little so he could grab the newspaper article out of his back pocket. It was three or four days ago that he took to keeping the article on him in case the opportunity to tell Oikawa came up. Or in case he needed to get rid of it altogether. 

 

He unfolded the paper and smoothed it out a few times. The seams where it had been folded were worn soft and flakey. He skimmed his eyes over it to avoid looking at Oikawa, reading the headline over and over. His heart hammered in his chest but he knew there was no way he could back out now. He’d never hear the end of it. It was better to tell Oikawa on his own terms then to do it in some fit of annoyance or anger.  

 

The whole time Oikawa had stayed quiet, impassive, watching Hajime flutter his hands over the wrinkled paper. “ _ You look nervous. If you don’t want to tell me you don’t have to.”  _ Oikawa had his own nervous edge to his voice. Whether he could feel the tension and scared him or if it was his regard for Hajime he couldn’t tell. 

“No, I need to tell you.” 

 

“ _ Well if you want to do it later you can. I’m certainly not going anywhere.”  _ His smile was audible. But it stung. A small, bitter reminder of Oikawa predicament. 

 

“No, I should have told you a long time ago.” 

 

Oikawa didn’t respond this time. The firm resolution in Hajime’s statement told him not to bother. 

 

“I looked into-” He started as if he hadn't rehearsed in his head a million times exactly how he wanted to do this. He started like this because he couldn't think, couldn’t remember how he wanted to do this. “You, I guess. I’ll save the details of how I did that, but I found an article about you.”  _ That’s too vague. _ “About your death.” 

 

“ _ Oh.”  _ Oikawa was still clutching the remote. He wasn't looking up at Hajime anymore, he was looking down to where he squeezed the remote in both hands. Studying how you could faintly see the black plastic through his hands. 

 

He finally let out that deep breath, a rushing exhale that sounded like “Yeah.” 

 

Oikawa released the remote, letting his hands sit utterly still in his lap, “ _ Can I see it?”  _

  
“Tooru, I, you look miserable. When you can't remember things. It must be hell on you not knowing so much about your life, yourself. I didn’t want you to have to suffer through that anymore.” That was a little more on script. “This was all I could do,” With that he handed Tooru the paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	7. people have killed themselves for worse reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bad things happen to everyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I M P O R T A N T: okay so in this chapter rape is mentioned (its also the one where they talk about suicide a L O T ) the mention of rape is super short and i've put it between * asterisks * so if you wanna skip it without skipping the whole chapter then when u see an * skip until u see the next * its only two lines of dialogue and it just has to do with age of consent. there are no details.

Tears welled in Tooru’s eyes immediately. They spilled heavy down his cheeks and dripped off his chin. One landed on his hand and slid down onto the paper. He was gripping it tightly, lightly crumpling the already creased paper. He either finished reading or the tears blurred his vision past the point of being able to read. He folded the paper in half, unfolded it, folded it back again. He was obviously trying hard to keep his composure. He pressed a hand over his mouth. The tears kept coming, rolling down over his fingers. 

 

This was the first time Hajime had seen him cry. Really cry. 

 

Tooru pulled his knees up to his chest again, yanking the blanket off of Hajime’s lap. He wrapped his arm around his legs and rested his hand on his right knee. Both of his hands were shaking and he was sobbing now. He hadn’t looked up at Hajime since he was handed the paper.  

 

Oikawa Tooru was an ugly cryer. That was for sure. Hajime didn’t know if he had made a mistake or not. He looked terrible. But it had to be better, right? Anguish, pain, grief. It had to be better than feeling nothing. Knowing nothing. It must have been some kinds sick purgatory for Tooru. Going  _ seven years _ stuck in a place he hardly remembered. Having a life he hardly remembered. Not knowing trivial facts about himself. 

 

Being dead and not knowing how or why it happened. 

 

Hajime sat up and held out his arms, waited a moment for Tooru to notice. He spent seven years alone. Hajime didn’t want him to have to deal with this alone too. 

 

Tooru pushed himself up on his knees. His face contorted in pain and he started to cry harder, if that was even possible. He buried his face in Hajime’s chest, letting his tears soak his shirt. 

 

They stayed like that for a long while, silently letting Tooru cry himself out. 

 

“I take it you’ve remembered something?” 

 

“ _ I guess you could say that,”  _ he replied with a muffled laugh into Hajime’s chest.  

 

Hajime threaded his fingers through Tooru’s hair, “Do you want to talk about it or? I’m not exactly an expert on this kind of thing.” 

 

“ _ You know I’m always a slut for attention.”  _ Tooru sat there quietly for another moment. He heaved a sigh and turned his face to the side so he was no longer suffocating himself into Hajime. “ _ You already know I killed myself. I suppose I had a reason, but in hindsight it probably wasn't the most justified action I’ve gone through with. I’ve told you about my family before. Just me, my mom, my brother, my brothers kid, and no money. I could hardly afford highschool with buying uniforms and volleyball equipment, but it was something I was good at and my mother wanted that for me. I guess it paid off when it started to put me through college. I was the only one in my family who continued school.”  _ He breathed evenly in long shallow breaths, but it wasn't erratic and pained anymore. 

 

“ _ It was my third year when things went south. Classes we fine, volleyball was great. But I pushed myself too hard, always had. I fucked up my right knee in high school. Didn’t take the necessary precautions. Worked it too hard. A recipe for disaster. It finally gave out during a match. Completely destroyed. I couldn't walk for a while, and after two months my physical therapist told me that there was no way I’d ever play again.”  _ He was at the part of the story where he probably would have started to lose it again, but he stayed calm. 

 

“ _ Volleyball was the only thing keeping me in school. I needed the scholarships for everything, board, meal plans, everything. If I didn’t play volleyball I would lose my scholarships. I couldn’t continue school without taking out loans that I wouldn’t be able to pay, which wasn't an option. But my mother was so proud. She was so proud that I was making something of myself. I couldn’t drop out. I couldn’t continue. I couldn’t do anything without volleyball. It’s kind of dumb. Living your entire life for a stupid sport.” _

 

“So you killed yourself.” 

 

“ _ Yeah. When you put it like that it really was a stupid decision.”  _

 

“But it’s the one you made.” Hajime held him for a minute, running his fingers through his hair. “People have killed themselves for worse reasons.”

 

“ _ You say that as if you have experience.” _

 

“I guess I do.” He tipped his head back and stared up at the ugly popcorn ceiling that he’s always hated. “My sister killed herself because her boyfriend cheated on her with someone she was really close to.” 

 

_ “The ol’ caught fucking the best friend. A classic.”  _

 

“It was me.” 

 

Tooru sat up, “ _ Oh shit.”  _

*

 

 

“I was fifteen, he was eighteen. My sister hung herself and I got disowned. A real tale of woe.” 

 

“ _ That’s really fucked up. Your sister's boyfriend raped you and you get thrown out of the house.”  _

 

 

*

“I’m gay and they blamed me for her death. It’s pretty shitty, yeah, but I don’t hold a grudge over it. They would have kicked me out even if my sister was alive. Or even if her suicide note didn’t literally curse me and say it’s all my fault. We all have bad things happen to us. But I know that my sister’s suicide ripped my entire family apart. I lost the most important person in my life and my parents lost a child. You mother loved you enough to do everything she could to give you a life worth living. If you think she would have been disappointed if you had to drop out or take out loans then you’re a fucking dumbass. You made the decision that you thought would be the easiest on you, but it was the worst possible thing you could have done to your family. I know you know that too. I know you thought about that, because you’re too much of a good person to not have.”

 

Oikawa was crying again now, shaking slightly. 

 

“You amaze me to no end, but you’re an idiot. I can't blame you or judge you for what you did. I can empathize. I don’t have the family to support me. I had to take out the loans. I have no way to be sure if things are going to work out. And it’s fucking hard. But I also don’t have a family to make proud, and I haven't had my dreams and passions ripped away from me like you did. There’s no way for you to know if any other choice would have turned out better or worse. You made a decision that you can’t take back and right now you’re living the consequence.” 

 

_ “Can I be honest and blunt for a second?”  _ He rubbed the tears out of his eyes with the side of his hand. “ _ This whole consequence thing isn't that bad.” _

 

“You fucking idiot-”

 

_ “Because I think I kind of love you?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this may or may not be the last chapter, I may decide theres more to tell who knows.
> 
> also: suicide is definitely not treated in the best way possible in this chapter but i wanted to deal with it from people who both have very close ties to it, one person who has persevered it and one who has not

**Author's Note:**

> scream with me on the tumble: [softboymcelroy](http://softboymcelroy.tumblr.com/)


End file.
